parenting in progress
September 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am an amateur. I have lofty dreams of parenting from a serene source of strength, but sometimes I struggle to be the mother I strive to be.
I never intend to raise my voice to my children and still I have. The sharp sound of my voice tinged with anger makes me feel horrible and has yet to fix poor behavior, but in moments of extreme frustration I sometimes lose sight of intentions and ideologies grasping desperately for order and authority. Shame for my own impatience guides me to apologize. In our house we have expanded sorry to encompass a promise, we say: Sorry means I will try to do better.
My kids know I am fallible, it would seem silly to hide this. I cannot imagine the standard of perfection that would cast judgment on their own mistakes without the balance of my errors. I hope my children are comfortable with both making mistakes and striving to learn from them. I often think of my children as consultants in parenting; sometimes they teach me, often times they forgive me, but mostly they hold me accountable to do my best.
On Saturday, my son snapped at my daughter and my daughter threw a noisy, public temper tantrum. I was horrified and snapped back. Maybe they were tired, hungry, overheated, or under the weather. Regardless of why, they were unhappy and ugliness seemed to puddle around us drawing each of us further into a muck of misery. Underneath the unpleasantness were these amazing little souls that provide me with moments of joy, humor, compassion, and wisdom.
I sat both children down and held for them the mirror of accountability that they hold for me. We talked our way through the problems and I asked them who they want to be; if their behavior best represented the person they are on the inside. They are no more bad kids, than I am a bad mom. They are little people still making sense of their world just as I am finding my way through motherhood. Forgiveness and understanding, acceptance for our imperfections and opportunities to do better are all any of us can hope for.
Parenting is an ongoing effort full of adjustments, lessons, apologies, and hope; a work in progress. Each day is a new beginning, an opportunity to do better.
my father
June 18, 2011 § Leave a comment
Sentiments and memories, unintended, pull on my heartstrings. There are moments in a lifetime when the absence of a parent seems larger than memories and love can fill. My father is alive but absent from my life, acceptance and forgiveness for the path that divided us cannot dull the pieces of the little girl nestled in my heart that wish for my father’s love. Once upon a time he was my hero. Smart and funny, charismatic and handsome, he was the person I tirelessly tried to please. Good and bad, somewhere in the shades of love there are lessons and gifts.
Sometimes our parents model examples that help us choose a healthier path. Standing on the shoulders of their mistakes we look into the horizon and try to map a path that winds around old mistakes. It is a mixed blessing, but a gift. As other’s celebrate their fathers, I am taking a moment to remember a simpler time when it was easier to love mine and to recognize the unintentional lessons I gained as my father’s daughter that guide me as I chart my journey as a mother.
off the map
April 4, 2011 § 2 Comments
I wandered into Motherhood without a map. Stranded between strangers, mothers rating and debating the value of various extra curricular activities and academic accomplishment, I feel lost. I turn to my inner compass trying to find my way.
I have felt lost before, when my first child was born. Facts, stats, and opinions shared freely under the guise of good intentions. Sleeping, eating, and dressing became subjects strangers, friends, and family would passionately advice me. Breast or bottle; sleep schedule or attachment parenting; fabric or disposable diapers; vaccinations and school registrations were common daily dialogues.
As my children have grown, I am cautious of parents climbing eagerly over the difficult terrain of perfection. I am finding my way, struggling to remain mindful of the world around me while not wanting to let others chart my path. I wonder, is there a map?
scribblechic 